"Mmm!"
My spine shivered. The pencil in my hand stilled its movements while the pencil in my pants moved a few inches upward, causing my jeans to tighten. I'm not usually voyeuristic. Stan and Wendy had made out in my presence a few times before but it had never distracted me from studying even once. Then again, I'd never heard Wendy moan before.
Usually when we hung out they were pretty respectful about the public displays of affection. They knew it was taking advantage of me. Stan and Wendy's parents trusted them alone together so long as there were other people also in the room, but they made sure PDA wasn't an every time occurrence so as not to make me uncomfortable or use me too often for my extra body. Even when they did decide to exploit the private time, they stuck to only making out. The few times they really had to they went off somewhere else to do God knows what so it wouldn't be awkward with me in the same room. It was always all very controlled, and Wendy was always the one doing the controlling. Whether it was her relationship with Stan or on the debate team at school, Wendy always projected a sense of dominance and poise. Which I guess is why Wendy Testaburger moaning in uncontrolled lust was quite possibly the hottest thing I'd ever heard. It wasn't even so much the sound of the moan that I liked, as attractive as Wendy was, but what the sound represented: Wendy losing control for Stan. Logically this meant that Stan must be really, really good in bed to make Wendy lose it like that.
Science homework would definitely have to wait.
Now more than ever I was grateful that I'd positioned my desk far away from my bed and all the other fun stuff in my room. Facing toward a wall usually meant nothing could distract me from work since everything cool was behind me, but I should've realized there was an exception to every rule. I kept one hand on my textbook and the other tightly gripping my writing utensil. I had to keep my hands busy or else they might go where my mind was going. Besides, if I kept up the illusion of work, maybe Wendy and Stan would keep up their little show a bit longer.
"Mmm!"
Oh, god, she'd done it again! What exactly was Stan doing that felt so great? Sure, physically I had some vague idea of what it could be, but I wanted Wendy-specific details. What could I do though? Certainly not turn around and gawk. Though, if I did, would they even notice at this point? I didn't want them to stop because of me, but I also didn't want them to leave the room.
Maybe a quick peek wouldn't hurt. I could get up to stretch. No. They'd see my hardon. I could pretend to drop the pencil and look for it. Yeah, that one might work. So I did it. I dropped the pencil to the ground and discreetly kicked it away from the desk, making sure it rolled in their direction. With that, I'd officially entered creepy pervert territory. God help me.
I dropped to the floor and crawled toward the writing instrument that I pretended not to see in plain sight. My hands fumbled around to make it look as real as possible. From the bed, I heard a zipper come undone. Was that Wendy's dress, or Stan's pants? Unfortunately they were under the covers by this point so I couldn't see much of anything, but that didn't deter me from trying. I made another bold move by rolling the pencil underneath of the actual bed, allowing me to get closer to them. I could hear the springs squeaking under their moving bodies.
"Ugh!"
Stan's moan was huskier than Wendy's, obviously, but still sexy in its own way. I don't think they noticed me. As I reached my hand under the bed in pretend search of the pencil, I felt a bunch of other items I'd forgotten about under there: My baseball, a pizza box, but most importantly, a box of condoms. One I'd opened but hadn't been able to use in some time. I wondered if they needed one. If I offered, it was kind of like my way of telling them it was okay to stay here and finish up. Would they even pick up on that though? Timidly I removed a condom from the pack and held it up for them to see. And take, if they wanted.
I don't know if Stan or Wendy yanked the blanket down first, but it hit the floor about as fast as my jaw did at the sight of their gorgeous, unclothed bodies. They didn't take the condom, pull up the blanket, or even stop what they were doing. I guess I'd forgotten that voyeurism worked two ways.
More like three ways.
The next zipper that came down was definitely mine. It was followed by my pants. Wendy and Stan both reached out and took hold of my hands before pulling me onto the bed with them like some kind of sex-hungry zombies capturing prey. Wendy applied the condom onto me while Stan held me down with his lips on mine; silently reassuring me that everything happening was okay.
I miserably failed my science test.
It was worth it.